Wizard Chronicles
by TheRealMomoisme
Summary: If you thought that Dresden was the only worthwhile Wizard, you'd be wrong. Follow the tale of Sasha, Torden, and... allies as they hack and slash their way through a variety of enemies, with story too!
1. Chapter 1

_Written by Momo, Sent, Lee, and Ty. Thanks for reading! This is basically a completely AU Dresdenverse story with the only ties to Dresden Files being the factions and rules. There will be no Murphy, no... Shoot, I don't know how far you read! Though I really suggest reading everything up to Changes. Don't even read Changes. End with Proven Guilty._

_No original Jim Butcher written stuff. This came from an RP. Happy reading!_

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><p>Vampires. Nighttime. Fluorescent lights. All of these things are to be avoided. And yet Sasha was going after all of them, as she tracked a Red Court vampire novice through a parking garage. At night. Brilliant.<p>

The vampires seemed to be attempting to spread Myrk throughout the air. Extremely useful for them, bad news for her. It would force her to cast light and make herself known. The only thing to do was to find the source before the inky black fog spread too far.

Unfortunately, even though it was technically a more open space than a closed box, they seemed to have put coverings over vents and make it nearly impossible for any air to really escape. Now she knew why.

"Sereta kores," she murmured, and when the small compass-looking object fixed the point toward a pillar, she ran toward it with a chain drawn.

The creature must have heard her footsteps, because it ran out to meet her. It was partially in it's flesh mask, but it was also partially out. The body was that of a human, but it's arms, legs, and head were the normal disgusting visage. Fighting the urge to gag, she circled it.

She tried to get behind the pillar to where it was clear the Myrk was coming from, but that would mean putting the pillar between her and the creature. It was fast, she'd need all the heads-up she could get. Instead, she lashed her chain toward it. The vampire recoiled and the strike missed completely.

Sasha yanked the chain back to ready for another strike, careful not to touch the now energy-charged metal. Unfortunately, it gave the vampire a chance to attack and oh boy did it. It rushed forward with superhuman speed and tried to bite her. She turned and ran toward a group of cars.

By now, the Myrk was almost up to her ears. She could barely see enough to reach the cars, and just as she dove under a truck, she immediately grew blind. Instead of conjuring light like she was desperate to do, she slowed her breathing and waited.

She could hear it circling the group of cars. If she could only see arms length in front of her, then it must only be able to see a little farther. It would have to rely on scent- which she'd masked already- or hearing her heart- which was already slowing.

There was a few short muffled cracks, a whizzing not far ahead of her. Something exploded, several glinting fragments of something glassy flying past, just in sight. Was that a splattering of blood now on the floor?

The Myrk cleared fairly quickly, and as soon as it's gone, Sasha crawled out. There was a dead Red Court vampire in front of her hiding spot, close enough and angled in such a way that she had very little trouble believing that her death had been near at hand- or worse. She shuddered and walked away from it.

A little ways away is the pillar the Myrk had come from and the remnants of a summoning circle. Also, a vampire whose head had exploded from the force of a backlash of magic. That had to take a lot of juice, especially since it was a Red Court.

There was a glint of light in the pocket of the Red Court summoner. She knelt down to examine it and found a small, silver coin. Curious. She pocketed it as she stood, before going to examine the rest of the garage floor she was on. There was a shell casing a ways away, likely from the shooter that had saved her. She wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

Sasha looked down to examine her clothing. Not too much blood, and it could be hidden by the denim jacket she'd left near the entrance. She had been loathe to leave the jacket she loved so much, but it was a little over-sized and a definite danger to her in a fight. Instead she wore a tank top and jeans tight enough not to be easily grabbed.

She let the energy out of the chain, wrapped it around her wrist, and went to retrieve her jacket. As she picked it up the brushing of it on the floor sounded almost like the flapping of the pages of an open book in a breeze. For the smallest of moments she could have sworn a faint woody must drifted through the air.


	2. Chapter 2

More chaptery goodness! We're introducing another character, named Torden. Weedy, adorable, and short.

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><p>Torden shivered. And thus he began to panic. He promised her he'd remember his training. He also promised he wouldn't get caught. But he'd get caught if he was shivering. He needed a jacket. He could easily get a jacket. He'd add it to the stash in the empty room. He'd done much harder things. He even knew which one he wanted.<p>

But why couldn't he do it? He was running out of time. He had to leave before he got there. They'd be waiting. And if they found him, they'd take him back. And if they took him back. He'd be disappointed. She'd be disappointed.

Oh god.

Oh god.

None of these things could happen.

Remember your training.

I made a promise. I cannot break a promise. I promised.

Focus.

Torden stills. He will fulfill the objective. He walked to the lounge chair where his target was. It's owner laid there- asleep- and his head rested upon it. Checking one last time to make sure the coast was clear, he swiped it. And he froze as he felt the cold barrel of a gun against the back of his head.

"I don't think that belongs to you, Mister Ulf."

"I don't want to hurt anyone…" The child trembles, raising his hands slowly, and turning.

"And they told me you'd be dan-"

He's 5'11, nearly 200 pounds. Puts less weight on his left knee, finger is loose on the trigger. The gun is a German Mauser. How quaint. Means he's probably a minor talent. Percent chance of success: Sixty-Seven percent.

Torden's hand bats aside the gun, the panicked shot going astray as his heel slammed against his assailant's apparent weak leg, causing the man to fall backwards onto the deck and and the gun to fall from his hands. The occupant of the lounge chair woke with a cry. He had to move. He stuffed the hoodie into his waterproof backpack, and looked to the door. Security personnel. Trouble. He wasn't going to get out that way.

The fallen man had scrambled to his feet. In a swift move, the boy kicked the gun over board and spun out of the resulting bull rush, planting another kick in the same spot resulting in a scream of anguish, and a tumble towards the railing. He was running out of time. He took a deep breath and dove right over the railing, into the waves below.

When he finally emerged from the waters, nearly two hours later, he was on the verge of hypothermia. But he was on the shores of New York. Where she told him to go. And that's what mattered.

He wandered the streets for a bit, sticking to the shadows, before finding a suitable alleyway between a string of apartments. And curling up to fall asleep. There was no way they'd find him here.


	3. Chapter 3

Sasha's shortcut through the Nevernever took her to the alley by her apartment. It was faster than public transportation, at least. The chain on her arm was wrapped around her wrist, wound three times, and locked there. It'd work for the time being as a bracelet.

The wall that she stood near cast a shadow so dark that she didn't even see the thing before she stumbles over it.

"Damnit," she muttered, and held up the wrist with the chain. "Sor'e."

The chain glowed like a lantern to reveal a small huddled form that happened to have a large caliber revolver pointed at her. His blue eyes were wide with fear, and his entire form trembled. "I don't want any trouble," he said, trailing off slightly.

Sasha reached forward and slowly took the gun from him. "Easy, kid," she said quietly. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"H-Honest?" His eyes darted around, searching the alleyway, and he backed tightly against the wall.

She nodded again, making no sudden movements. "I'm a friend," she insists. "What are you doing out here? Where are your parents?"

"Running. I am running. I have to keep running. I promised," he stammered.

She crouched in front of him, looking near his eyes. A soul gaze would do no good here. "What do you mean? Running from what?"

"Them. The ritual." His eyes focus on the glowing chains. "You aren't a warlock, are you..? He shrank back a little.

Sasha winced. The kid had almost hit the nail on the head. "Not… exactly. Doom of Damocles, you know? I'm safe for now, and definitely not as corrupt as some of those bastards."

"I don't want to kill anyone." He shivered from the cold. "I'm not allowed to kill anyone. I promised. I'm a good kid. She said so." As if an afterthought, he looked up, confused. "Who are you?"

"I'm Sasha. Who said?" she asked. "And why would you have to? There's always a choice."

"Not if you're a slave. She didn't want me to be a slave. She helped me leave." He sniffled. "She was a nice girl. They killed her." He murmurs as he buried his head in his knees.

"Tornac," she mumbles under her breath. "Are you safe right now? Is anyone after you?"

"It's Torden. I'm not safe. Not here. Not anywhere. He thinks I belong to him." He murmurs. "I had to hurt a man on the boat. Followed me all the way from Norway. Never far enough." And he openly began to openly sob. "But I promised. I promised. I have to keep running."

She growls angrily, a fairly animalistic sound. "The hell you will," she spits. "I can hide you. He can't be that powerful."

He looked up at her, pondering. "... I don't want them to hurt you."

"And I won't see a child hurt because of some slaver. C'mon, stand. You can crash at my place for now." She stands herself, and holds out a hand.

He stands quite abruptly and hurriedly. "Yes ma'am. Of course ma'am." He doesn't take advantage of the offered hand.

Sasha is a little hurt, but turns to the apartments and sets off at a brisk jog toward the door in the basement. He keeps up well enough. At the door, she lets down the wards, and walks through. She doesn't say anything about the threshold or invites him.

He removed his shoes at the door and looked up at her as he tentatively walked through the doorway. As soon as he was inside, she muttered, "Terado." Candles lit and brightened the room.

There's a quick flipping of pages, sounding very close to Sasha's ear, a satisfied "hmph" and then a deep purr of a voice "Is not this one a lost lamb? Are not you a kindly shepherd? Reminds me of someone…"

Sasha flinched and quickly showed the boy around, and it wasn't much. There was a vaguely functional sink and bathroom, but no technologically advanced items anywhere. There was also a huge shelf on one wall covered in books, ranging from Sherrilyn Kenyon to Olde Spells for Young Wizards.

"Behave," she mutters. "I need a minute." She runs to her room, lights the candles, and shuts the door.

"What the hell are you?" She snarls quietly, so the boy doesn't hear.


	4. Chapter 4

This one's short. Like the boy.

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><p>Torden's eyes darted around. Orders. Something he was familiar with. Something that made him feel comfortable.<p>

_Behave._

He could do that. Behaving was doing chores and staying out of the way. He could definitely do that. He began by doing the dishes. Then dusting the book shelf. And then his eyes fell upon the multitude of stains.

He knew they had to get out. He just didn't know how to do it. He was unable to follow the order. And so he began to panic. He curls up in the nearest corner, hands nervously playing with a rosary. He had to do this. He was told to behave. She'll be mad. She's not allowed to be mad.

Magic, he thought. I can magic it away!

This was a terrible, miserable, awful idea.

The couch was now on fire.

This was definitely not behaving.

Torden rushed to the sink, finding a bowl and filling it up with water, before dumping it on the flames. It definitely was not enough.

Torden vibrates with frustration. He needed to behave. He needed to follow the order. He needed more water, right there, and right now!

And suddenly there was. There's a thumping pain in his head and his vision blurs, as several gallons from several water fixtures splashes upon the sofa. He collapses against the bookshelf. The bookshelf collapses forward on top of him.

This. Was not behaving.


	5. Chapter 5

*Gives cookies to anyone who guessed this nonsense in the first chapter*

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><p>The deep purr took its time responding, but it did. "I am the voice of wisdom...or at the very least the voice of knowledge - especially where lost lambs are concerned."<p>

Sasha shuddered, the voice was mildly disturbing. "The boy is no lost lamb, more a hunted fawn."

It tutted, and flicked over the page of an invisible book just in earshot, "Have you not read the bible? You are all little lost lambs in the eyes of Our Shepherd, or do you think you two are something different now?"

"Lambs with teeth," she said dryly. "Now what are you?"

"Well, my little toothy lamb, I have already said. I am the Voice of Wisdom, though I think you doubt that."

Thinking it was a fae, she decided to trick it. "What are you?" she asked again.

There was a pause, a little flicker of pages again- though this time it was almost hurried. "I am Whispered Secrets, and Forbidden Knowledge, as well as the Keeper of both. Does a less metaphorical answer placate you, lamb?"

She breathed out an annoyed breath. "I like clear information. Are you a fae, then?"

The voice tutted, "Here I wished to congratulate you on using all the knowledge you have of your past actions, and also that on the many varied denizens of the world. It is shame that cannot yet be case." It seemed to go back to reading whatever invisible book had its attention, the occasional flipping of pages.

"Something clearly ancient, clearly feeling superior, and likely powerful and knowledgeable. If not fae or Wizard, I haven't come across it."

"I did quite heavily imply that I am knowledgeable, yes. I don't remember having the pleasure of your company before, our paths have only come together recently."

"So you're the only one of you?" she thought, hoping to communicate without talking and risking being overheard.

A short, sharp, peal of laughter echoed for longer than it should in the bedroom; an echo much better befitting a series of tunnels, "I am certainly unique, but I suppose even little lambs like to think that of themselves."

"Definitely self-superior," she muttered.

"A judgement I make of myself through experience and knowledge," he said smugly

"Fine," Sasha growled. "What do you want? How did you get in my head? I must say I haven't heard of creatures that slip into the brain with no warning."

"You wound me, does not the eloquence in my voice show that I am, at the very least, better described as a person?"

"A person would be of human conscience, or at least similar. You don't seem to be," she said, smirking to herself.

"From the outset, you have referred me as an object and not a person. I am a...'what', not a 'who', in your eyes. I think you distance yourself from the notion that I am a person to control your fear of what you do not know, namely myself."

"Or…" she said slowly. "I don't think you're something worth my care as a human. As a creature, and maybe you're worth my respect, but not my caring."

"I never asked you to care, nor respect me," the creature replied. "However, I would certainly not seek to be disrespectful to me, especially as knowledge is the most easily shared form of power."

"I'm rarely overly disrespectful to anything that could possibly leave me as a splatter on the wall."

Another tut- it was getting annoying- and turn of a page, "I would not be so...messy. Nor as violent, it would be a poor show for someone such as myself."

She thought about that. "Point. So really, what are you? Do you have a title of some sort? A denomination? A race? Or shall I begin calling you 'Librarian'?"

"Sir would be a good start, perhaps...My Lord. I've always had a fondness for the idea of being Lord." He sounded dryly wistful, in a way.

Sasha laughed, mildly sarcastic but mostly amused. "You got it, Librarian. I'm guessing knowledge spirit of some sort, then."

"I am fond enough of this notion to accept, you may refer to me as The Librarian...for now. Whatever you wish to refer to me as, I will still be keeping two of my eyes on you." After a moment, he added, "Perhaps I will even be gracious, and grant you knowledge if you ask politely."

Startled, Sasha blinked. "Thank you, then. Though the price best not be to high."

She tilted her head at the crashing noise in the living room. "Oh gods, that's terrifying. I'd better go deal with that."

"If it were too dear, you wouldn't be able to agree to any other negotiations. I will leave you to your trite domestic issues for now." The voice seemed to fade away.


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry about the wait! Silly writers. It's like wrangling cats, only the cats cooperate more.

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><p>Torden lay still beneath the bookcase. He had tried already to free himself to no avail, and he was much too exhausted to continue the futile measure. He had really screwed it up this time. He was back on the streets again, if not in the Their custody. He resigned to his fate buried beneath the mountain of books.<p>

"What in the hell happened here!?" a woman's voice demanded from where he couldn't see.

Torden's head emerged from beneath a Kenyon book. "I...I had to get the stains out. I had to behave…" He sniffled and gave her a mournful gaze. "I did the dishes and dusted all the things…"

Sasha walked into the kitchen, made an astonished noise, probably about the clean dishes stacked neatly in place of the mountain of dirty. He heard footsteps as she walked back out. "Will you help me put the books back?" she asked sternly.

"Yes ma'am. I-I'll get you a new couch too." He looked up pleadingly.

She chuckled wearily and put the bookshelf back up. "Don't worry about the couch, I have enough saved up to get a new one second hand. Believe it or not, stuff like this happens a lot. One time, I slept on the couch and woke up with a nightmare and…"

She chattered on happily, picking up books and sorting them in an odd, chaotically organized system. Torden did his best to make sense of it. But whatever he did, it always seemed to be in the wrong place. Still, she wasn't unkind, and fixed it with a gentle redirection. And Torden quietly marveled at the new experience.

There came a brief knock at the door. She stopped working immediately, unwrapped the chain she'd used as a lantern from her wrist, and walked to the door to flip up the peephole. "Who is it?" she asked gruffly.

There came only a slight thump upon the door and quiet footsteps that moved down the hall and away. She frowned and slipped the chain from her wrist to her fingers, like brass knuckles, and opened the door. After a moment, she retrieved what had been left, shut the door, and showed it to him. It was a lost flier with his face on it.

Torden trembled, and started to panic. "I'm not safe here. Someone must've seen me near here. I'm sorry. I never should've come. He probably knows I'm here." He curled up against the couch, rambling quietly about the need to run, and promises.

"Who is he, though?" she asked calmly, kneeling by him from the way her voice seemed to move. "Is he something I can't handle? Because I can handle a lot."

"I don't know...I don't know ma'am."

"It's Sasha," she said gently. "Let the big bad wolf come knocking at my door. By the lack of hair on my chinny chin chin, I'll kick his ass from here to the Nevernever."

It's funny she said that. A chilling howl fills the hall, and her wards are firmly tested as a werewolf slams into the door.

Fortunately, they held for the time being, but her head snapped up and she groaned. "Really? An actual wolf? That was an expression!" She looked up, as if speaking to the ceiling. "Metaphor is not literal. Metaphor is not literal!"

Torden managed to squeeze beneath the ruined couch. He'd abandoned all rational thought. Never mind the werewolf could simply toss aside the couch with a single swipe. He was scared. Very, Very, scared.

"Boy!" She crouched beside the couch. "Werewolf, hexenwolf, or loup-garou?"

"He has at least one of each. He likes to be prepared for any scenario. He's paranoid. And I'm the last piece."

She growled under her breath. "Fine. Silver in the heart, and he's down." She unwound the chain from her wrist, holding it like a whip. Then she grabbed a silver dagger from the key cupboard by the door and yanked said door open. "Ferase!" she roared, slashing the chain across his face.

There was a loud thump that Torden couldn't see from his hiding place under the couch. She leapt out of the doorway and at where he guessed the wolf would have landed. The sickening squelch of metal piercing flesh came next, followed by an agonized howl of pain and terror that quickly morphed into very human whimpers. Then, nothing.

"Kero de freya!" she snarled as she walked back in, dagger and the front of her body spattered with blood. "Thank the gods for the sleep spell I set up, or my neighbors would be attacking me for this nonsense."

Torden was astonished. He had just climbed from under the couch, and was on his two feet. When he finally unfroze, he tackled her in a hug as tight as his small body could give. "I...I...Thank you." He buries his head under his arm and sniffled.

Sasha froze entirely, not moving. After a moment, she said, "Oh, uh, no problem. All in a day's work?"

"I'm sorry...I...I was cowardly.." He scuffled his shoes on the carpet.

"You're a four foot nine weed whose magical talent seems to be proper for a kid your age," she says playfully. "That's intellect, not cowardice."

"I'm also a certified marksman, and near master at both Judo and Aikido." Torden felt a bit insulted, he wasn't just some kid.

"In this world, those help," she explained quietly. "But magical power or knowhow matters the most. You're also young. A much larger opponent is going to destroy you. Anything else comes here for you, let me handle them. There'll barely be enough to put in a jar."


End file.
